“Up we go!” George laughed, starting ahead.
The studio, though old and a bit shabby, was well furnished. The proprietor, a short man with intent dark eyes and an artist’s beret cocked over one ear, appeared so unusually eager that the girls wondered if he had many customers.
Nancy inquired the cost of having individual photographs made. The price was reasonable, so the three friends decided upon separate poses.
After the pictures had been taken, the photographer disappeared into the darkroom. Soon he returned with two dripping plates. The pictures on them of George and Bess were excellent. To Bess’s disappointment, however, not a trace of writing appeared on the glass.
“Where is my friend’s picture?” inquired George, referring to Nancy.
The photographer returned to the darkroom for it. When Nancy glanced at the wet plate, she inhaled sharply. Just beneath her photograph were the words:
Beware your client’s request.
“Spirit writing!” Bess gasped.
“Yes, a message from someone in the other world is warning you not to go on with your work,” the photographer said slowly, with emphasis on the word “warning.” “Young lady, do not take the warning lightly.”
“No, I won’t,” said Nancy.
She had just glimpsed in the photographer’s darkroom the woman they had seen on the plane! The next instant the door closed, and the lights in the studio went out. The room, with its one window heavily curtained, was in complete darkness.
A chill breeze suddenly wafted into the studio. Nancy felt a clammy hand brush across her face and fumble for her throat!
CHAPTER IV
A Strange Adventure
BESS screamed in terror. George, with more presence of mind, groped along the wall until she found a light switch she had noticed earlier. In another moment the room was bright again.
Both girls gasped in horror at what they saw. On the floor, almost at their feet, lay the photographer, unconscious! Bess started toward the man, but checked herself as George demanded:
“Where’s Nancy?”
Their friend had vanished from the studio!
In their alarm, the cousins temporarily forgot the photographer. Frantically they ran into the darkroom, then into an adjoining kitchenette.
“Nancy!” George shouted. “Where are you?”
There was no answer.
“Nancy’s gone and that photographer isn’t regaining consciousness,” Bess wailed. “What shall we do?”
“We must call the police,” George decided.
Rushing out of the studio and down the iron steps, the girls ran through the deserted courtyard to the street. Fortunately, a policeman was less than half a block away. Hurrying up to him, George and Bess gasped out their story.
Immediately the patrolman accompanied the girls to the studio. As they entered, the photographer stirred slightly and sat up.
“What happened?” he mumbled.
“That’s what we want to know,” demanded the policeman. “What goes on here?”
“I was showing these girls a plate I’d just developed, when the lights went out. Something struck me on the head. That’s all I remember.”
“What became of the girl with us?” Bess asked.
The photographer, pulling himself on to a couch, gazed at her coldly and shrugged.
“How should I know?” he retorted.
“And where is the plate with the writing on it?” George suddenly demanded.
“The spirits must have been angry and taken it,” the photographer said. “I’ve known them to do worse things than that.”
The policeman appeared to be skeptical. He searched the building thoroughly, but no trace of Nancy or of the missing plate could be found.
Worried over Nancy’s safety, and scarcely knowing what to do, Bess and George demanded the arrest of the photographer. The policeman, however, pointed out that they had no evidence against the photographer.
“Now don’t you worry, young ladies. Your friend can’t be far away. We’ll have some detectives on the job right away. But I’ll have to ask you to step around to the precinct station and give us a description of Nancy Drew.”
Shortly afterward, Bess and George, considerably shaken, returned to their hotel. There, nervously pacing the floor, they debated whether to send a wire to River Heights.
“If Nancy doesn’t show up in another half hour, we’d better notify Mr. Drew,” Bess quavered. “To tell the truth, I’m so scared—”
“Listen !” George commanded.
Footsteps had sounded in the corridor, and now the door of the suite was opening. The two girls waited tensely. Nancy tottered in. Her hair was disheveled and her clothing wrinkled and soiled. Wearily she threw herself on the bed.
She greeted them with a wan smile. “Hello.”
Bess and George ran to her solicitously. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Nancy told them how the hand had clutched at her throat when the lights went out in the studio.
“I tried to scream and couldn’t. I was lifted bodily and carried out of the room.”
“Where?” George asked.
“I couldn’t see. A cold, wet cloth was clapped over my face. I was taken to the basement of a vacant house not far away and left there, bound hand and foot.”
“How did you get away?” George questioned.
“I kept working until I was able to wriggle out of the cords. Then I climbed through a window and came straight here.”
“Did you get the number of the house?” asked George. “I think we should get a policeman and investigate.”
Nancy nodded. “We’ll go to the police station as soon as I have a bath and change my clothes.”
While Nancy was dressing, the girls discussed their recent experiences. George and Nancy were equally sure the photographer had resorted to trickery in putting the message on the plate.
“He could do it easily,” George argued. “Maybe he used a plate which already had been exposed to the printed words.”
“I believe there’s more to it than that, George,” Nancy told her. “I think the woman who spoke to us on the plane figures in it. I saw her at the studio,” Nancy disclosed. “I’m convinced the photographer was part of a scheme and only pretended to be knocked unconscious. We must get that plate with the message on it.”
“It’s gone,” said George.
This news added to Nancy’s suspicions about the whole adventure. As soon as she was dressed, the girls returned to the police station, and an officer was assigned to accompany them. A careful search was made of the vacant building where Nancy had been imprisoned, but not a clue could be found. Even the cords which had bound her had disappeared.
To their surprise the policeman remarked soberly, “This isn’t the first time queer things have happened in this section of the city.”
No additional information was gained by calling on the photographer, who maintained his innocence in the affair. Bess and George obtained their pictures, but the man insisted that the plate with the spirit writing had disappeared.
When the girls were in their hotel suite once more, George remarked, “Queer about the warning message—‘Beware your client’s request.’ Do you think it meant Mrs. Putney’s case?”
“I’m sure it does. But,” Nancy said with a determined smile, “now I’ll work even harder to solve the mystery!”
“Nancy,” said Bess, “is there anything else we can do down here? I feel we should go home and report to Mrs. Putney.”
“Maybe she’s had another message!” said George.
“Do you suppose she goes to séances?” Bess asked, “and then later dreams she’s hearing her husband talk to her?”
“It’s possible,” Nancy replied. “But it would be hard to get her to admit it.”
Bess and George were glad to leave New Orleans. Nancy’s experience had frightened them, and they felt that some sinister motive was back of her temporary abduction. Nancy herself was reluc
tant to leave.
“I think several people were involved in an effort to get me out of the way so that I couldn’t find out too much,” she said.
Despite the danger, she thought a further search should be made for the mysterious woman. Yet she agreed there was some justice in the girls’ argument that Mrs. Putney should be consulted.
Learning that a plane which stopped at River Heights left within an hour, the girls quickly packed and reached the airport just in time. The trip home was uneventful, but during the flight, Bess revealed that she had a little mystery.
“That’s what I wanted to ask Amurah,” said Bess. “You remember Mrs. White, who comes to our house once a week to clean? She has a daughter, Lola, who is eighteen. Her mother’s terribly worried about her.”
Nancy recalled the woman, a very gentle, patient person who had suffered a great deal of misfortune. At present her husband was in a sanatorium, and she was struggling to pay the debts his illness had piled up.
“Where does the mystery come in?” Nancy asked.
It seemed that lately, Lola, ordinarily good-natured and jolly, had become unnaturally subdued. She acted as if she were living in a dream world. Mrs. White said there had been no broken romance, nor had her daughter lost her job.
“In fact,” said Bess, “Lola earns good wages at a factory and used to give her mother most of the money. Now she gives her practically nothing but won’t say why. Something has happened to her,” Bess insisted. “Oh, Nancy, won’t you go to see Lola? Maybe she’ll tell you what’s wrong.”
“All right, I will,” Nancy promised.
Nancy kept her promise the day after she returned from New Orleans. After calling Mrs. Putney and making an appointment for the following day, she started for Lola White’s home, wondering what she would say.
Evidently Bess had told Mrs. White she might expect the visit from Nancy. No sooner had Nancy rapped, than the door was opened by Lola’s mother. It was evident that she had been crying.
“Oh, Nancy, I’m so relieved you’ve come!” she said, her voice trembling. “Lola didn’t go to work today. Ever since breakfast she’s acted like someone in a trance. Please see if you can do something for her!”
CHAPTER V
The Figure in White
“LOLA dear, Nancy Drew is here to see you,” called Mrs. White.
The woman had led the way to the back yard, where her daughter sat motionless, staring into space.
“It is quite useless,” sighed Mrs. White. “She will talk to no one.”
“Oh, Lola needn’t talk,” Nancy said in a friendly voice. “I came to take her for a little ride in the country. It’s a beautiful day.”
“Yes, it is!” Mrs. White agreed. “Lola, wouldn’t you like to go for a ride, dear?”
Lola, though looking none too pleased, made no protest. Once in the car, she sat in silence, gazing ahead as if hypnotized.
Nancy pretended to pay no attention as the car sped along the picturesque river road. The prolonged stillness seemed to wear upon Lola, who kept pushing back her long blond hair. Several times she glanced at Nancy. Finally, unable to bear the strain, she asked:
“Why did you bring me out here?”
“To help you if I can.” Nancy smiled. “You’re worried about something to do with money, aren’t you? Is it about your job?”
“Well, sort of,” Lola confessed. “It’s just that my wages at the factory aren’t mine any—” She broke off and gazed forlornly at Nancy.
“Why not tell me everything?” Nancy urged. “Perhaps I can help you.”
“No one can. I’ve pledged to give away almost every cent I earn.”
“Whatever induced you to do that, Lola? To whom are you giving the money?”
“I can’t tell you,” the girl replied, her head low and her voice scarcely above a whisper.
“Do you feel that’s fair to your mother? She must need part of your earnings.”
“That’s what worries me,” Lola said miserably. “I’ve pledged myself and I can’t get out of it. I don’t dare tell Mother the truth either. Oh, I’m in a mess! I wish I were dead!”
“Now that’s silly talk!. We’ll find a way out of this. If I were you I’d ignore the pledge.”
“I don’t dare,” Lola said fearfully.
Nancy told her that any legitimate organization would not take money to the point of depriving Mrs. White of needed support. If Lola were paying money to unscrupulous persons, she should have no qualms about breaking the pledge.
“You really think so? If only I dared!”
“I’m sure that your mother would tell you the same thing.”
“I guess you’re right,” Lola admitted. “Maybe I’ve been foolish.”
For another half hour, Nancy talked to the girl in a friendly way, seeking to learn to whom she had pledged her salary. Lola, however, would not reveal the information.
When Nancy finally drove her home, Lola thanked her and promised to follow her advice. The next day Nancy was pleased to hear from Bess that Lola White seemed to be herself again.
“Splendid!” Nancy commented. “I only hope whoever was taking her money will leave her alone now.”
As soon as Bess had gone, Nancy hurried to the widow’s home. Mrs. Putney herself opened the front door of the big house.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came,” she cried excitedly. “While you were gone I remembered something I had forgotten to tell you. In the directions given me by my dear husband as to where I should conceal my jewelry, he mentioned specifically that I was to look for a sign of three twigs placed on the ground and that I should bury the jewel case two steps from the sign in the direction of the big walnut tree. When I reached the clearing I found the three twigs lying crossed on the ground, just as the spirit had directed me.”
“Oh, Mrs. Putney, I wish you had told me about this when we were at the spot before!” exclaimed Nancy.
She glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s only four o’clock. I’ll pick up my friends and drive out now to see if the crossed twigs are still there.”
When the girls reached the clearing in the woods, there lay the three crossed twigs. The position seemed too perfect for Nature to have placed them there. Yet Nancy doubted that they were the same ones which Mrs. Putney had seen. Rain and wind would have displaced the others.
“The thief may use this method to communicate with his confederates,” Nancy mused. “But why would—”
Her voice trailed off. Through the trees Nancy had seen a flash of white.
“Someone’s over there,” Bess whispered uneasily.
“Let’s try to get closer without being seen!” George urged.
Taking care not to step on dry twigs, the girls entered the woods. Through the bushes, they could see the back of a young woman with long blond hair.
“That almost looks like Lola White!” Nancy exclaimed.
The girl appeared to be reaching high into the crotch of a black walnut tree.
“She’s hiding something there!” Nancy whispered excitedly.
The girl suddenly moved off in the opposite direction. Soon she disappeared.
Nancy went quickly to the big walnut. Standing on tiptoe, she reached into a hollow in the trunk of the tree. Triumphantly she pulled out a sealed envelope. The others crowded around her.
The envelope bore no name or address, but on its face was a crude drawing of three crossed twigs!
“Wow!” said George. “The mystery deepens!”
“What’s inside?” Bess asked in awe.
“If I had one guess, I’d say money,” Nancy replied. “I feel justified in opening it, too, for I’m sure it was meant for the person who stole Mrs. Putney’s jewelry.”
The other girls agreed. Carefully Nancy slipped her thumb under the flap, gradually peeling it free. Inside was a sheet of paper and ten five-dollar bills.
There was no message but the name “Sadie.” So the girl had not been Lola!
“I wonder who the girl was,�
� said George.
“What I want to know is why she left the money here,” said Nancy. “We must overtake her and find out!” On second thought she added, “Maybe the thief will come to the tree to get the envelope. I’ll stay here. You two go.”
“She’s hiding something!” Nancy whispered
The cousins darted off, leaving Nancy alone beside the black walnut tree. Carefully Nancy put the envelope back in the hollow, and sat down a little distance away to watch.
As Nancy sat with her back to a tree trunk, she thought she heard the soft pad of steps. She straightened up, listening intently, but heard nothing.
“Probably some animal,” Nancy decided.
Nevertheless, she glanced about carefully. Her skin prickled, as if in warning that some stranger might be nearby.
“Nerves!” she told herself.
At that moment Bess and George, unsuccessful in their pursuit of the blond girl, were returning. Coming within view of the big walnut tree, George was astonished to see a strange sight. Though no wind was blowing, a leafless branch of a tree behind the walnut seemed to bend slowly downward.
“Bess, look—” she began, then ended lamely, “Never mind! It’s gone now.”
“What’s gone?” Bess demanded.
“A branch. I guess my eyes tricked me,” George admitted.
Hearing the voices of her friends, Nancy quickly arose and came to meet them. Seeing that they were alone, she said in disappointment:
“You weren’t able to overtake her?”
“We had miserable luck,” Bess admitted. “We didn’t even get close enough to see her face.”
“We trailed her to the main highway, where she must have hopped a bus,” George added.
“I think we should take the money with us,” Nancy said. “I’ll ask Dad what to do about it.”
On tiptoe, Nancy reached into the hollow of the tree. A puzzled expression came over her face.
“The envelope’s gone!” she exclaimed.
“It can’t be!” insisted Bess.
Carolyn Keene_Nancy Drew Mysteries 025 Page 3